Heartless: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance Page 5

  My head was already spinning before I could snort back a fresh line. Hell, I needed it. The Power brothers were nasty, and they were coming for me. Anytime now, they were coming for me. My debts were getting too damn big for them to accept my smiles and promises.

  It wouldn’t have been quite so bad if they were coming after my own debts, but they weren’t. They were coming for everyone else’s along with them. A whole sea of gambling and addict debts owned by people I’d met along my own desperate road.

  I couldn’t let them die for it. I couldn’t let the Power brothers destroy people I’d come to care about along the way, even if just in passing. Again, just as well I didn’t really care about my own sorry fate. Not about how much I owed and not about how much I’d suffer for it. The Power brothers could take what they liked; I’d be almost glad to say my final goodbyes.

  There was another line to wait in before I got into the bathroom stall. The place was filling up, bustling with laughter and chatter and people having a good time. Good for them.

  I was desperate for release as I dropped myself down at the side of the toilet, pulling out my bank card and bills along with my stash of white powder.

  Thank holy fuck for cocaine.

  7

  Lucian

  “Terence Kingsley,” I said to the girl on the entrance desk.

  “ID, please.”

  I handed over Terence Kingsley’s passport and pushed my fake glasses up on my nose. My hair was styled in his usual swept-back wave, and I felt like a total imbecile in jeans and boots with a button-up shirt. She gestured me through with a smile, and I forced one back, determined to make this disguise work as well as possible. Terence Kingsley would definitely smile at her. He’d even smiled at me when I arrived at his doorstep last fall. More the fool him.

  Cyrus Bar was quite lively for a shitty little downtown dive. People stepped aside to let me climb the main stairwell, and I was up and amongst it, into the main bar area. The music was garish and loud, hardly my usual taste. The singer on stage looked like a dull brute with a roar of a voice, and his band members had brightly-colored hair, glowing like trash under the spotlights.

  I scanned the room, weaving my way through the crowd toward getting served a drink in this hovel, but my pretty blonde prey was nowhere to be seen.

  I ordered a mineral water and shunted my way back to the side of the dancefloor in order to cast my eyes around me all over again. People were jumping up at the stage, trashed, or tapping their foot to the beat all around the edges, letting out squeals. Bullshit. The whole place was cheap, lousy bullshit.

  Still, there was no sign of her.

  As I completed my circuit in the shadows at the edge of the room, I wondered if I’d read the diary entry wrong. If she was in the building, I’d have surely seen her from a distance, recognizing the shimmer of blonde curls from a mile away, but no. She was nowhere to be seen.

  I didn’t understand why the thought of failure frustrated me so badly. It was a rotten twist in my guts, my heart beating fast as I continued my scanning and mingling. It shouldn’t matter. It would be one pathetic foray in an attempt to track her down, not even worth breaking a sweat over. I had no idea why it felt like so much more.

  I’d find her.

  Some way, sometime soon, I’d hunt her down and find her. I just hoped damn fucking hard that it would be tonight. I was slavering over the thought of it.

  I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to make her beg and squeal and shiver at my touch.

  I’d sipped my way through most of my mineral water when I saw a flash of perfect blonde on the other side of the dancefloor. My stomach did a twist, and the rage burned behind my eyes.

  Yes.

  Fuck, yes.

  I knew it was her, even without a clear view. I knew it by instinct – by the hatred rushing through my veins.

  I made my way closer, keeping in the shadows. She was standing next to a tall guy who looked like a vintage throwback, attractive, but a pussy of a man, weak enough looking that I could easily break his neck with one simple twist. Elaine was close to him, pressed up tight, but I knew he hadn’t laid a single dirty hand on her, not in any way that counted. It was another flash of instinct in my gut.

  She was staring up at the stage, gazing at the loser bellowing into the mic up there. Yes, it was Elaine Constantine, but she looked . . . different. She’d almost have passed for a normal person, for anyone other than a Constantine. Almost.

  Her dress was tight, and clearly expensive, but her makeup was . . . cat-like.

  Hot.

  Fuck, she was a hot little bitch. Even hotter than she’d been at the masked ball.

  She was swigging beer from a bottle, chugging it back nice and hard. It reinforced what I already knew – her alcoholic cravings must have been pretty damn desperate for her to be drinking that cheap shit. And there was more. I only needed to watch her move at pussy boy’s side to know she was coked out.

  It seemed the rumors were true. She was an addict. She was indeed a disgrace to the Constantines and all their pompous, classy pretentiousness. She was the disgrace that had everyone rolling their eyes and scowling whenever they gossiped about what a useless little bitch she was.

  So, why was she still so fucking attractive to me?

  I daren’t get any closer, not without catching her eye. I hovered just out of view, soaking her up as I bristled and boiled, imagining all the things I wanted to do with her.

  I wanted to sneak my way into her disgusting family and destroy them one by one. I wanted to tell her just what I thought of that repulsive blood flowing through her veins, and then make her pay for it. Slowly. Filthily. Brutally.

  I wanted to do so much to her that my mouth was watering. Lust. Hate. Contempt. All of it simmering deep.

  Her family had been on a mission to eradicate mine for decades. They’d torn us down once, but never again. We’d all bleed to death before we gave them a single inch of our wealth, or our pride.

  I wondered how pretty Elaine Constantine would look with her family blood on her perfect skin. I wondered how her eyes would glisten with tears as she stared up into the malice in mine.

  I wondered how much I could make her pussy stretch for me before she screamed.

  It was funny, looking around me at all the people in that room, just how evil a monster I was amongst them. So many idiots living their idiot lives, having no idea such a beast was in their midst.

  A girl with pink hair banged into me as she swung herself to the beat, slamming hard into my chest and spilling the last of my water over my shirt. She spun around with a sorry, and I had to choke back the need to make her pay.

  I couldn’t. Not tonight. I was Terence Kingsley. Terence Kingsley didn’t do Morelli torment in a downtown dive.

  I tipped my head and forced a smile, and she smiled back, then kept her eyes on me.

  “Hey,” she said. “Shall I get you another?”

  I leaned in close and summoned my Brit accent. “No, thank you.”

  Still her eyes stayed fixed on mine.

  “You sure? I’d really like to. Water, right?”

  Her smile was dirty. Her scent was cheap.

  Sometimes I liked cheap. I liked tempting it with cash and demanding whatever I wanted. I’d learned at a very early age that there is nothing on this planet that is unobtainable. Everything has a price. Everyone has a price.

  I imagined her cash value would be a low one.

  I glanced back over at Elaine, and she was still gazing at the prick on stage like a bitch in heat.

  “Sure,” I told the pink-haired girl. “I’ll have another water.”

  “Cheap date.” She laughed and took my empty bottle from me.

  Oh, the irony.

  She headed over to the bar, and I waited, my stare still hard on Elaine. I was so focused on blondie that pink hair had to nudge my side before I realized she was back. She handed me my fresh water, smile still bright on her face.

  “You from Engla
nd?”

  I nodded. “London.”

  “Ace,” she said. “I went there once when I was young. I loved it. Buckingham Palace was my fave.”

  I could barely hear her over the shitty music, but I could hear well enough to know she was slurring drunk.

  “Everyone loves Buckingham Palace,” I told her.

  “Right! That’s because it’s awesome!” she gushed and leaned in closer. “Come here often?”

  My answer was short and simple. “No.”

  It was right then that the band on stage finished up their song and took a bow for the crowd. Done. Finished.

  Thank fuck for that.

  The throng of revellers didn’t get the chance to disappear from the dancefloor before the main act came up onto the stage. That’s when I recognized him – the Blue Hawk guy I’d checked out online.

  He looked better in the flesh than I’d seen him in photos – a cocky, smirking performer with a decent ripple of meat through his frame. Hardly a surprise the room was cheering for him. Especially not when his voice started up and flowed right through the venue.

  He was good.

  I looked across at blondie, and pussy boy at her side was air punching and whooping. He ducked down to Elaine, and she was laughing as they cheered.

  “I LOVE Blue Hawk,” the pink-haired girl at my side squealed, and I forced my attention back to her.

  “Love Blue Hawk enough to be your favorite?”

  “My favorite EVER,” she told me. “He’s been my favorite for years. I’ve been waiting for this gig for months. I’m at every one of his I could book these next three months. Every single one!”

  Oh, the challenge. Oh, to surpass her years’ worth of excitement with one tiny click of my fingers.

  I pressed my mouth to her ear, and she tensed. I loved how she tensed for me.

  My eyes were on Elaine Constantine when I spoke next, loud enough for pink hair to hear me, even as the bass from the stage struck up loud.

  “Come outside with me,” I said. “Now.”

  She flinched and pulled away, flashing me one hell of a look of confusion.

  I leaned back in. “Now.”

  She beckoned me closer, tight enough that I could feel her breath on my neck.

  “Sure, I will . . . just after Hawk has finished, yeah? I really want to see him play.”

  I shook my head.

  She stared. Thinking.

  “Now,” I repeated. “Now or never.”

  I was ready to offer pink hair cash incentives for leaving the gig of her life, finding out how accurate my predictions were as to how much she’d demand for her flesh. But I didn’t need to. Her eyes were just too hungry. She’d be a freebie at my fingertips.

  I’d always been arrogant, but even I took pleasure in the way she looked at me in that moment. It seems I was still as godly attractive as ever, even dressed up as Terence Kingsley in shitty clothes, in some shitty dive, amongst shitty people.

  “Okay,” she said, with a girly little smile. “Let’s go.”

  I should’ve done it, just for the cheap thrill. Under any normal circumstances I would have. I’d have dragged her outside and used her until she screamed.

  I stared down at her, and her eager smile, and the want in her eyes, but for once, I didn’t want it. I didn’t want her pain. I didn’t want anything but the bitch of a blonde across the room.

  The amusement at my realization tickled me.

  The confusion on Pinkie’s face as I left her standing there tickled me even more.

  I was smirking as I tipped my bottle to her, moving away.

  “Forget it and enjoy your gig, sweetheart,” I said.

  She stepped towards me, cheeks burning bright as she registered my laughter. She wasn’t good enough, and she knew it. Not for me.

  The embarrassment and shame on her face made me want her more. But not enough.

  The crowd thrusted forward as another song started up and removed me from her view. I wasted no time and slipped away, weaving my way between the bodies.

  Closer.

  Closer.

  Closer to the bitch of a temptress across the floor with every breath and every step.

  My cock was swollen in my pants, and it wasn’t for the clumsy bitch that I’d left behind. It was for the woman in front of me, the beautiful virgin whore, who didn’t yet know she was a whore.

  She was swaying on her feet, holding her beer up high, and the fool at her side was swaying along with her, tipping his head to the beat.

  I could’ve stepped up behind her and slit her throat without a word. I could’ve slipped away before people even knew what had happened, out of there in a flash as the room ran wild with panic.

  I could’ve, but I didn’t. I didn’t want that. It would be too much of a waste. Far too much of a waste.

  I wanted to see her pain with my reflection in her eyes. Slowly. Oh, so slowly.

  I wanted to take her as mine as she moaned and murmured and begged.

  It was a dark thrill in my gut as I stepped up behind her, close enough to catch her scent. Orchids and plums were wafting from her perfume, just like at Tinsley’s ball. It only added to the zing inside me as it brought the memories pounding back. The feeling of her body, so willing against mine. Her mouth so wet and hungry. Her pussy so wet and so needy.

  I wanted that again.

  I wanted her again.

  I stayed in position behind her, feeling her heat as she moved. So close. So fucking close.

  The song finished and the prick by her side leaned down to her, and the silence between the tracks was enough that I could hear his words.

  “I can’t wait to get my hands on him later,” he said, and Elaine laughed.

  “Let’s hope he wants your hands on him, then,” she replied.

  Interesting.

  It was becoming apparent that everything about that woman was interesting, even the gay guy she was hanging out with.

  I couldn’t deny the relief at affirming the guy really had no road into her pussy. I saw no lust in her eyes as he smiled down at her, nothing but . . . friendship. Genuine friendship . . . so I made a note of him as a potential ransom figure. Tristan. He must be the Tristan from the calendar listing.

  He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, and it was in the way she melted into him that showed me affection between them.

  It was insane, just how the sight of that flared up in me. How the way she touched him made me hungry for her to touch me like that. I didn’t understand her impact on me, and I didn’t want to. There was nothing I wanted other than the thrill of breaking her and staring into the hate in her eyes, burning as brightly as mine ever would. The very thought of wanting more than that gave me shivers.

  The bass started up again, and the two of them started up their swaying along with it, whooping their arms above their heads. That’s when I did it. That’s when I made the move to close that final sliver of distance. I pressed up tight behind my blonde Constantine bitch, letting out one single breath against her cheek as I put my hands on her waist and pushed on by.

  It was fast. One tiny heartbeat in the thrum of the room. But it was enough.

  It was enough that she tensed. Enough that she turned. Enough that I felt her eyes searching after me as I disappeared into the darkness of the crowd.

  I waited until there were a number of people between us before I turned back to face her, far enough away that she could never be quite certain who I was. Not amongst the dancing, and the cheering, and the flashing of the club lights all around.

  Yet again, it was just enough.

  She saw me.

  I felt it. Sensed it. Wanted it.

  I met her eyes through the shadows and the flashes of neon, and I held her gaze in mine.

  Yes. She saw me.

  She stopped moving. Dead in her tracks. Eyes open wide.

  The guy at her side stopped moving and turned towards her, trying to work out what she was staring at.

/>   But no.

  He’d never manage it.

  Terence Kingsley was already walking away.

  8

  Elaine

  No. It couldn’t be.

  My heart was pounding, and my breath caught in my throat, and I couldn’t stop staring. Couldn’t stop the waves of panic flying through my veins.

  “What is it?” Tristan barked into my ear, and I didn’t move. Couldn’t move. “What is it, hey?” he asked again, but the figure was gone.

  I struggled to keep sight of him, but the crowd was too dark. I could feel Tristan staring, too.

  “What the hell are you looking at, Lainey? What is it?” he asked, and I took a deep breath before I turned to face him.

  “It was Lucian Morelli. Lucian Morelli is here.”

  His eyes widened, his mouth dropping to match, and then he shook his head and fixed me in a gaze that said I was crazy.

  Yep, he was joining the Elaine-is-crazy club. He’d better get in line.

  “Lucian Morelli isn’t in this place,” he told me. “No fucking way.”

  I shrugged, knowing full well my eyes weren’t deceiving me. I pointed into the crowd. “He was over there, and before that he was right behind me, grabbing hold of my waist.”

  My words had to be shouts above the music, but that didn’t matter. He heard me loud and clear.

  His eyebrows were pitted as he shook his head again, then leaned in close. “You have to stop this. Whatever this damn fucking obsession with Lucian Morelli is, you have to damn well stop it.”

  “It’s not an obsession!” I snapped. “He was right here!”

  I nodded in contrast to his shaking head.

  “I mean it, Tristan, He was HERE.”

  “And I mean it, Lainey. He wasn’t.”

  My head was swirling from the coke, but it wasn’t a hallucination. There was no way it was a hallucination. He’d been wearing glasses, and some weird dumbed-down outfit, but I knew his touch, and I knew his stare, and I knew his breath – all of him seared into my soul in a few short minutes just days before.

  Tristan leaned in close again. “Did you tell anyone about this? About you coming here tonight?” I heard him groan. “Please tell me you didn’t…”